


The Perfect Pickle

by Lejuicyfruit



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, Deliberate Badfic, Food Kink, I'm really sorry, M/M, PWP, Pickle Porn, you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6567244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lejuicyfruit/pseuds/Lejuicyfruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was one pickle that Hisame liked best of all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Pickle

**The Perfect Pickle**

It was no secret to Corrin—or anyone, really—that Hisame was obsessed with pickles, but he didn’t know that pickles would end up finding their way into the bedroom. He honestly should have seen it coming. He fancied himself the more adventurous one between their sheets, but a role-reversal wasn’t a bad thing. 

At least... he hoped it wouldn’t be. He hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this. 

“You’re not going to just feed me pickles all night, are you?” Corrin asked with a somewhat nervous smile as Hisame tended to his pickle barrel in the corner of their room. Yes, he let him stash it in his treehouse so ‘no one would steal the secret recipe and ruin him.’ And boy did he remember hauling that barrel up the ladder. Mozu ended up helping with that because she was surprisingly strong and he was surprisingly weak. 

“Of course not. These aren’t even ready yet.” Hisame gave him a look that said he should have known that. “This, however, may be of use to us.” 

Corrin tilted his head as Hisame held up a glass jar with a translucent green liquid inside, along with a few stray seeds. “Is that pickle juice?”

“Technically it’s brine. Which you should know, honestly.” He frowned. “I’m not just pretty to look at, you know. I’m also smart and have insightful things to say.” 

“About pickles?” 

Hisame crossed his arms. “Do you want to make love tonight or not?” 

Corrin laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re just so serious right now. I thought I’d get you to lighten up a bit. Why don’t you tell me what you plan to do with that _brine_?” 

A visible shiver went through the younger man’s body at the sound of his husband using pickling terminology. Corrin laughed a bit. This obsession went way deeper than he knew, but it was just one of many reasons he loved him. 

Hisame licked his lips. “Well. I was thinking of pickling _you_.” 

Corrin chortled until he realized he was dead serious. “Wait... What?” 

“Why don’t you just relax? And take off your shirt.” Corrin obeyed, though he was not so sure about this anymore. His young lover wasn’t usually so cryptic when it came to experimenting in the bedroom, but he trusted him with his life. He could always use their safe phrase, ‘pickles are detestable,’ if things got too intense.

Hisame sat astride his confused husband and tilted the jar slightly, pouring some of the brine on his bare stomach. Corrin screeched slightly at the cool liquid. “Owowow!”

“Oops! I didn’t see that cut, hang on.” Hisame quickly lapped up the juice irritating his lover’s still-healing cut from yesterday’s battle. The pain turned to pleasure so quickly that Corrin could already feel his length springing to life in his pants.

After ascertaining there were no more cuts to avoid, Hisame finished spreading the pickle juice over Corrin’s torso. Corrin couldn’t help but notice that his erection was already at full-mast even though his own was only halfway there, which was saying a lot considering he was the one actually being pleasured. 

“Hmm. Someone’s excited.” 

Hisame blushed. “Sh-Shut it! I told you I’ve been dreaming about this practically since we met.” 

“Wait, before we fell in love?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” 

“Well, why didn’t you ask to do this sooner?” Hisame looked reluctant to give his answer, so Corrin pressed him again. “Love. Tell me.”

“Honestly? You seemed too vanilla.”

“What?! _Me_ too vanilla? Me, the one who tied you up and practically broke the headboard? What about that role-play with the villagers watching us? Or when I was the naughty maid for you, huh? I had to buy Felicia a new outfit thanks to you, and you want to call me vanilla?”

Hisame scrunched up his face in derision. “Sure, you’ve had some good ideas, but none of those involved my ultimate fantasy. You asked whether I wanted to do those things and I said yes, but you never asked what I wanted to do. What I _really_ wanted to do.”

“I see... I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner. You just seemed so unsure of yourself at first that it seemed like you wanted me to take the lead.”

“I’m glad you did. But now I’d like a turn at the helm. And I must say, I really like what I’m seeing.” Hisame didn’t waste any time getting to work, not leaving a single drop of juice on his lover’s skin. Corrin closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure, encouraging Hisame with careful fingers tousling his smooth hair. “Oh, yes...” He moaned slightly as his husband’s tongue connected with the sensitive flesh below his naval. His erection was begging to be freed from the confines of his pants. 

“The taste is exquisite,” Hisame remarked when he was finished, giving Corrin a kiss so he could have a taste too.

“Mm... It really is. You’re a pickle mastermind. Truly.”

“I prefer Master Pickler, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.” Hisame drew Corrin close, kissing him senseless while he yanked off his husband’s pants and small-clothes in one go, baring him completely. “Ah. There it is. The best pickle of them all.” 

A laugh died on Corrin’s lips as Hisame immersed his hand in the brine and began to lather it on his manhood. He hated the sound of his own moans and distracted himself by biting Hisame’s neck, marking it with his teeth. The self-named Master Pickler hummed in pleasure, tilting his head back to give Corrin full access to his pale neck, gasping when he bit him particularly hard. “Ah... I’ll have to wear something to cover these up.” 

“At least you can explain them. How will I explain why I literally smell like a pickle?”

Hisame snorted, smiling. “Pretty sure you’ve smelled like a pickle since we got married. The scent clings to your clothes in such a magnificent fashion...” Hisame bent down to taste the head of Corrin’s member, withdrawing soon after much to his chagrin. “Still not enough...” He continued to coat it with the brine, leaving no inch uncovered. Even his scrotum was treated to a generous amount. Hisame was nothing if not thorough. 

“Gods, just do something already,” Corrin whined, eyes lidded with lust. “I’m dying here.”

“Oh, I’m just as eager for a taste. But it has to be perfect. It’s going in my mouth, remember?” 

“You’ve had me in your mouth before without turning my dick into a pickle first!”

Hisame blushed. “Say it louder why don’t you? I don’t think the rest of the army heard you.” 

“Hisame, please,” Corrin pled, squirming. “I need you...”

“Patience.” Hisame tasted him again, but didn’t pull back right away. “Gods, I’ve done it. I’ve made the perfect pickle! Oh, if only you could taste it!”

“Um... No thanks? Though masturbating would be a lot more interesting if I could suck myself off.”

“Shh. I need to marvel at my creation...”

“Nngh! Marvel later! Please? You can’t tease me like this and then just stare at it— _ahhhhh_...!” Corrin gripped the bedsheets, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as Hisame took his whole length in at once, like he’d been deep-throating him his whole life. It had taken weeks of effort for him to do it, but he was clearly proficient now. “Oh gods Hisame...” He fought not to buck into his mouth, not wanting to hurt him, but Hisame gave a thumbs up to indicate he was okay. 

Corrin lovingly tangled his hands in his husband’s hair as he, for all intents and purposes, fucked the living hell out of his face. His moans were positively wanton as he lost track of time and space and everything, losing his very identity to Hisame’s skilled fellatio. “Gods I wish I could last longer... Fuck.” He tugged twice at Hisame’s hair, warning him he was about to finish so he could get out of the way, but Hisame didn’t move, accepting his husband’s seed as it spilled into his awaiting mouth. 

Corrin slowly recovered, panting heavily, while Hisame swallowed down as much of his load as he could and finished licking the juices from his ‘favorite pickle’ and the freshly emptied sack below it. 

“Gods that was good,” Corrin practically whimpered. 

“For me too,” Hisame said, licking his lips. “I should have taken off my pants...” 

“Did you cum?” 

He nodded, his cheeks dusted pink.

Corrin kissed him, humming contently when the pickle flavor of Hisame’s tongue met his taste-buds. “Thank you for that. It was amazing. And I’m glad you had fun too.” He stripped Hisame and got him cleaned up, pulling him on top of him as they settled down for bed. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Hisame asked as he snuggled into Corrin’s chest, breathing in his deliciously salty scent. 

“Only if I can get a taste of _my_ favorite pickle next time.” 

Hisame smiled and kissed him slowly, burying his face in his neck and falling asleep afterward.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first time posting here, so I hope you all enjoyed it. And I'm sorry because if you're down here, it must mean you read this.
> 
> This was based on a very vivid dream I had and I couldn't resist writing it out since I normally suffer from pretty severe writer's block. 
> 
> Anyway, there you have it. I apologize again if you read the whole thing because that's several minutes you'll never get back. Until next time!


End file.
